


With Me

by frankiesin



Series: The Marching Band AU [6]
Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: (except Brendon's super sneaky about his pining), Brendon Urie is a bisexual slut, Brendon Urie is kind of an asshole, Dallon discovers his feelings, Dallon doesn't get paid enough for this shit, Dallon is jealous, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, buy violent things on iTunes, mentioned Frank/Gerard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-01
Updated: 2016-02-01
Packaged: 2018-05-17 13:09:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5870884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frankiesin/pseuds/frankiesin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dallon doesn't have a crush on Brendon, until he does. Not that it matters, since Dallon's sure Brendon will never actually feel the same way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With Me

**Author's Note:**

> Somewhat for Renegade_Angels. His friend, who doesn't have an account on here, read the rest of the series and requested Brallon. RA then pestered me until I wrote a Brallon. 
> 
> Technically part of a series, but can easily be read alone.

Dallon lived next door to Brendon Urie, which wasn't a commonly known fact. Sure, most people knew where Brendon lived because Brendon hosted a lot of parties and his parents were heavily involved with the band, but no one really came over to Dallon’s house. Dallon didn't mind. He never missed a band party because he couldn't, even if he wanted to. Brendon knew where Dallon's window was (because it faced Brendon’s bedroom window), and he would throw rocks at Dallon's window until Dallon opened it and agreed to come over. 

 

Dallon wasn't very antisocial, so the throwing rocks at the window thing has happened only twice. One time had been while Dallon had been studying for a chemistry test, and he had almost started pelting Brendon with his own fucking rocks for interrupting him. 

 

Dallon was in his room then, at his desk and trying to think about calculus. The thing about calculus was that it wasn't interesting to think about, and also Dallon had arranged his desk so that it looked out the window. The window that faced Brendon's house, to be specific. Dallon's room actually had more than one window, despite the rumours Brendon spread about Dallon being the tall, American version of Harry Potter. Dallon didn't live in a tiny cupboard under the stairs in Brendon's house. He was just over at Brendon's house a lot, because Brendon's house had food. Actual, real, not Mormon-sanctioned food. It was great. 

 

It was not great when Dallon really needed to do his calculus homework and all he could think about was Brendon. Less that twenty feet away, visible through two panes of glass and making out with his girlfriend of the week. Dallon wasn't sure why he was paying attention to Brendon making out with some girl. It wasn't like she was super important. None of Brendon's dates ever turned out to be particularly important. Brendon went through dates like Gee went through hairstyles. 

 

Dallon pushed his bangs away from his forehead. So what if Brendon was constantly getting laid? Dallon wasn't jealous. 

 

Okay, he was a little jealous, but only because it just didn't seem fair. Brendon wasn't even that attractive, except that he was, and even his larger than average forehead managed to work on him. Brendon was sixteen years old and had somehow managed to get through the first half of the puberty process unscathed by acne or awkward baby fat hanging on to just his face. Brendon was attractive, way too attractive for a sixteen year old, and Dallon was jealous. 

 

Because Dallon wasn't ugly, but he was a tall baby deer of a guy and his legs were too long and he was too tall and he had to duck under doors sometimes and it fucking sucked. Dallon was pretty sure that being tall was supposed to get him hot points with people, but it hadn't. Not yet. Maybe he was just too tall for hot points and he was intimidating instead. Maybe all the available guys is school were afraid he would step on them or something. 

 

Dallon was pretty sure that Frank was afraid of getting stepped on. Frank was about half Dallon's height, and kind of in love with Gee. Not that Frank would admit it out loud, but he didn't need to. It was obvious. Everyone in the band knew, and there was actually a betting pool going around as to when Frank would ask Gee out and make it official. Brendon had forced Dallon to enter, even though Dallon didn't really care when Frank and Gee got together and didn't have a lot of extra money to just throw into a marching band betting pool. 

 

Dallon dropped his head onto his desk, because it had been twenty minutes and he still hadn't done any calculus. He had just been spacing out and thinking about anything not related to math, and maybe that was why he was struggling in math. Or maybe it was because math just sucked. Math sucked a lot and Dallon wanted to start a petition to ban it from reality forever. 

 

He didn't know if that was possible, but he knew he had to try. Even if he couldn't free himself from the horrible hell hole of calculus, he had the chance to free all his younger band friends. 

 

Dallon's phone buzzed, rattling the desk, and Dallon raised his head up off the desk to see who had texted him. It was Brendon, which Dallon hasn't been expecting at all. He had thought that Brendon's girlfriend was over, and therefore holding all of Brendon's attention. 

 

_ Forehead Tyrant: hey d come ovr rn  _

 

Dallon rolled his eyes. Not even a “please come over, Dallon.” Just a “get your ass over to my house immediately”. And Dallon would, because any excuse to not do math homework was a good excuse, even if Brendon was overdramatic and ridiculous and self centered and kind of an asshole. He was entertaining and not math homework, and right then, that was all Dallon wanted. Something not math homework, or math homework related. 

 

“Mom, I'm going over to Brendon's!” Dallon called out as he was walking down the stairs. He hadn't bothered with shoes since it was early September and Brendon's house was super fucking close anyway. 

 

“Are you done with your homework?” His mom called back. Dallon paused on the stairs. “Yeah, I'm going over to help Brendon with some English thing!”

 

“Alright, have fun!” And that was that. Dallon didn't like lying to his parents (despite being kind of boring and not understanding that pizza was a very important part of life, they were genuinely good people), but he had to sometimes. Like when Brendon demanded attention and Dallon was avoiding math homework. Or when Brendon was having a party but it wasn't parent approved and Dallon had to convince his own parents to not be at home so that they wouldn't call the cops when something weird (like Joe and Pete launching rockets off the roof) happened. Dallon didn't want his parents getting his friends in trouble just because his friends had a different idea of fun. 

 

Dallon locked the door as he left and then made his way through the grass to Brendon's back door. Brendon was sitting on his back porch, waiting for Dallon and holding two glasses of what looked like Coke. Dallon hope it was Coke. It was a Tuesday. There was no good reason to be drinking stolen whiskey and Coke on a Tuesday afternoon. It wasn't even finals week. 

 

Dallon accepted the Coke anyway, because he was a good friend in theory. He started to sit down next to Brendon because sometimes Brendon liked doing his dramatics outside, or even in the pool, but Brendon stood up and, without a word, dragged Dallon all the way up to his bedroom. Brendon sat his Coke down on his desk before launching himself at his bed and hitting it with a muffled scream. Dallon just lifted an eyebrow and took a sip from his glass. 

 

Brendon turned himself over so that he was laying on his back and threw one of his arms over his face. Dallon took another sip of Coke. Brendon groaned, overdramatically. “What is it about me that makes me undateable?”

 

Dallon Weekes then kept all of his remaining dignity by  _ not _ spewing the Coke he had just swallowed, and instead finished swallowing it like a functional human being and asked, “what does that even mean?”

 

“I am, by mere definition, a bisexual and also a slut.” Brendon still had his arm over his face. His other arm was gesturing above him, but in a half-hearted way. Like he didn't actually want to gesture around, but he was too gay to keep his hands still for more than three seconds. “Statistically speaking, the only people who  _ wouldn't  _ want to date me are straight guys and lesbians. I admit that there are a surprising amount of lesbians in this school, or at least in marching band, but there are an equal amount of gay guys. And bi people. And straight girls are fucking everywhere, holy  _ shit _ .”

 

Dallon nodded. There were a surprising amount of straight girls in their high school. That was part of the reason Dallon didn't make a big deal about his sexuality outside of band. He didn't need a flock of obsessively straight girls following him around and asking him if he thought they looked fetch. 

 

Wait, no, fetch was the thing from  _ Mean Girls _ . Dallon was thinking of  _ fierce.  _

 

“Are you even paying attention to me?” Brendon asked, removing his arm from his face and sitting up. Because Brendon had the abs to go from laying down to sitting up without arms and without a struggle. Brendon threw a pillow at Dallon, but missed because Brendon's aim sucked when he was being dramatic. “I am having a crisis!”

 

“Sorry, I was thinking about  _ Mean Girls _ .” Dallon said. Brendon rolled his eyes. “Boo, you whore.”

 

Dallon smiled, despite himself. Brendon could probably quote that entire movie if he really wanted to. It was one of his many talents. Dallon moved over to sit down on the edge of Brendon’s bed, patting Brendon’s ankle with his free hand. “Go on, tell me about your crisis.”

 

“People keep breaking up with me after two weeks.” Brendon said. “It’s like, they get me for the free trial, but when I actually want to do something other than have sex, they’re not interested. I’m willing to pay for the fucking date, I’m not broke! What do these people want from me, Dallon? Am I just a pirated sex toy to them? What am I?”

 

“You’re Brendon Urie and you should probably stop putting out on the first date if you want people to do more than just hook up with you.” Dallon said, removing his hand from Brendon’s ankle and taking another sip of his Coke. It was only Coke, which was good, because Dallon still had to do calculus, except now it was going to have to be secret calculus because he told his mom he was already done with his homework and he wasn’t about to get grounded over a single piece of calculus homework. He was better than that.

 

Brendon hit him with a pillow. “Don’t fucking slut-shame me! I will have as much sex as I want and you will deal with it!”

 

“Okay, that’s valid.” Dallon nodded. “But maybe, don’t come off as a ‘sex only’ kind of guy when you start looking for your next date?”

 

“Good plan. How do I do it?”

 

Dallon paused. He had absolutely no dating experience, because he was still a little bit in the closet and he didn’t want to put that kind of pressure on another guy. Brendon, however, had almost all the dating experience, but he was known for being easy in the sex department, and having low standards in general. He wouldn’t date someone if they were butt ugly (because Brendon Urie was a vain little shit and everyone knew it) or super insecure about themselves (because Brendon Urie was an impatient little shit and everyone was starting to know it), but if someone asked him out, he rarely said no. Dallon couldn’t come up with anyone who had been rejected by Brendon.

 

Dallon shrugged. “I don’t know. Raise your standards?”

 

Brendon rolled his eyes. “I’m trying to get an actual date, not be perpetually single like you are. My standards are high enough as it is. I don’t need to raise them.”

 

“I’m not perpetually single.” Dallon said defensively. “I just don’t want to date anyone right now. It’s a personal choice.”

 

“That’s just another way to say perpetually single, dude.” Brendon said. He rolled over onto his side, closer to Dallon, and Dallon scooted away from him. Not because he was afraid to be close to Brendon, but just because he was pretty sure Brendon wanted some personal space. Maybe. Dallon didn’t know how Brendon worked half of the time. 

 

“We should do something.” Brendon said. Dallon stared down at him. “It’s a Tuesday.”

 

“So?”

 

“So what exactly are we supposed to do? We’re underage, Spencer’s at drumline, and the only interesting places open on a Tuesday are too far away to walk.” Dallon said. He wasn’t mentioning that he had a car, even though he was pretty sure that Brendon already knew. Because the bad thing about having a car was that it needed gas, and gas was expensive as fuck. Dallon had a part time job at the Subway near their high school, but Subway didn’t pay a lot and Dallon didn’t have a lot of gas money. Brendon never paid gas money. Dallon knew that Brendon had money, somewhere, but he had no idea what he did with any of it. 

 

For all Dallon knew, Brendon was hosting a secret fight club in his basement. Dallon considered that idea for a moment, but realised that he would have noticed if there were a lot of people filtering in and out of Brendon’s basement, or if Brendon suddenly started looking all bruised and shit. Dallon was observant sometimes. 

 

Brendon poked Dallon in the side. “Don’t you have a car?”

 

“I don’t have any gas.” Dallon said. That was a lie. He did have gas, he just didn’t have a lot of it and he was trying to conserve it so that he could drive to school and not have to take the bus. The bus sucked, because he and Brendon lived far away from school and so they were the first stop on the route. The bus came at around six in the morning. Dallon did not want to be awake at six, let alone be getting on a bus then. 

 

Brendon, however, seemed to be above the human need for sleep and therefore took the bus every day. Brendon was not even judged for not taking the bus, because he could just as easily ride to school with Dallon. He just chose not to. 

 

Brendon moved closer to Dallon, again. Dallon didn’t move away this time because he didn’t want to fall off the bed and he was pretty sure that if he gave Brendon some space, he would. Fall off. And that would be embarrassing. Dallon knew that he was embarrassing, but he tried to avoid doing obviously embarrassing things, such as falling off his friend’s bed.

 

Brendon poked Dallon again. “I’ll pay for the gas if you take me to the movies.”

 

“Why would I take you to the movies?” Dallon asked. “Brendon, if I don’t have any money for gas, there’s no way I have money for a movie. What movie would we even watch?”

 

“I don’t know, I just need to do something that isn’t laying on my bed and being a teenage girl.” Brendon rolled his eyes. “And even shitty movies are fun. I can pay for shitty movies.”

 

Dallon raised an eyebrow. “You’re not seriously going to make me watch a bad movie, are you? I have things to do?”

 

“Oh yeah?” Brendon sat up, and he was really close to Dallon’s face. His face was a few inches below Dallon’s, because Dallon was really fucking tall even sitting down, but it still had the same effect. Dallon could feel all the heterosexuality draining from the room. Dallon hadn’t even considered liking Brendon as a possibility up until then, and… well. Whoops. Maybe he should have considered that earlier, because the worst time to discover you have a latent crush on your friend is when he’s literally three inches away from your face. 

 

Brendon straightened his spine to try and get up to Dallon’s height. Dallon tried to breathe. Brendon narrowed his eyes. “What kind of things? Boring, school things? Or actual interesting things that you actually want to do?”

 

“Okay I didn’t do my calc homework, fuck you.” Dallon said, and then shoved Brendon back because he needed the fucking space. He needed the space to not be gay. He was going to be gay whether Brendon was three inches or three feet away, but he could be non-Brendon-centric gay if Brendon was farther away. 

 

Brendon laughed at him. Because Brendon was an asshole. Dallon had a sudden crush on an asshole. Dallon was not a fan of himself. This was incredible. Dallon was not going to let anyone know that he had a sudden crush on Brendon because he was a senior in high school and if he could survive until graduation he would be fine. He would be just fine. 

 

“Come on, lame ass, I'll even buy you popcorn.” Brendon got up off the bed and started tugging on the sleeve of Dallon's shirt. Dallon rolled his eyes. “I'll buy my own popcorn.”

 

“No you won't, because I'm officially your sugar daddy and I'm not going to let you buy your own popcorn.” Brendon continued tugging and Dallon stood up because he recognised that resistance was futile at that point. He looked down at his feet. “I don't have shoes.”

 

“Oh my God, how are you still alive?” Brendon threw his head back dramatically and strode over to his closet. He threw the doors open and dropped down, looking through the bottom of the closet for who knew what. A few moments later, he reappeared with a pair of worn Vans that Dallon recognised as his own. Dallon frowned. “How do you have those? I thought I lost them at band camp.”

 

“You didn't. I packed them by mistake and just never bothered to tell you.” Brendon said. He threw the shoes, as well as a pair of white ankle socks, that Dallon assumed were clean. Dallon put them on, surprised that the socks actually fit (apparently Brendon had large feet or something). He looked up through his hair at Brendon. “I’d call you an asshole, but you’re buying me food.”

 

Brendon smirked. He reached over and ruffled Dallon’s hair, which was fine because it wasn’t as though Dallon actually tried to style his hair in a particular way or anything. He just kind of let his hair happen however it wanted to happen. So Brendon fucking it up didn’t actually fuck it up. 

 

“See, this is why we’re such good friends.” Brendon said. “You get me.”

 

Dallon stood up, so that he was once again taller than Brendon and looking down at him. “No, I just put up with you.”

 

“Same thing.” Brendon shrugged. He tugged on Dallon’s shirt again, pulling him out of the bedroom. “Come on, shitty movies and overpriced popcorn await.”

 

Dallon rolled his eyes, but only because Brendon was still looking at him. He was actually looking forward to the movie, partially because Brendon had a totally different taste in movies from Dallon, and so Dallon often liked the movies that Brendon considered “shitty” (unless they were objectively shitty and then Dallon suspected that no one actually liked them and he wondered how a movie that shitty even made it to theatres). He was also looking forward to the movie because it would give him some time to figure this whole attraction to Brendon out.

 

Dallon knew, on some level, that Brendon Urie was attractive. Duh. He also knew that he was a little attracted to Brendon, because it explained why he put up with the guy for so long. He just hadn’t expected the attraction to shift from  _ yeah, alright, that’s an attractive person, cool _ to something that wasn’t very subtle. 

 

Dallon could hide his crush, though. He was hiding his sexuality pretty well. He wasn’t super out, and he didn’t act very flamboyant, and no one questioned why he never dated anyone. He would be fine. He just needed to figure out just how much he liked Brendon.

 

He wasn’t going to mention it to Brendon, because he knew better than to feed Brendon’s ego. There was no way that Brendon liked him, because Dallon would know. Brendon didn’t hide his attractions to people. He was confident enough in himself that he could just walk up to his crush of the week, ask them out, and get laid within days. It was something that Dallon would never have. Probably. Some kind of miracle could happen, and Dallon could grow out of his tall and awkward phase, but for now he was stuck as Brendon’s gayer wingman.

 

Honestly, he didn’t mind it that much. At least he was getting free food. What more could any underpaid teenager ask for?

**Author's Note:**

> I kind of like writing Brallon? Or at least this pre-Brallon where the boys are dumb and don't realise that feelings are happening. I might write more.
> 
> Please leave kudos/comments if you enjoyed!


End file.
